


I don't have a title yet oops

by charocon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 10:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charocon/pseuds/charocon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is sick of moving. He thinks that this move will just be another insignificant stop off. Little does he know that this move will completely change his life. (Yeah I know that's cheesy but it's true so just go along with it, 'kay?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I don't have a title yet oops

**Author's Note:**

> I know it starts off with them being kids or whatever but it will go on as they grow up have no fear

Dean hated moving. He, his dad John and little brother Sam had moved house a total of seventeen times in the last six years. Each time they moved John had promised Dean him that it would be permanent - and each time Dean had believed him - but this time he had doubts.   
"Son." his dad had said the day before the move. "I know we've moved around a lot, but this time it'll be for good. I promise. I owe it to you and Sam to have a proper childhood home. I haven't been a good father, I know, but I'm trying to change that, and I think this will be a step in the right direction."   
Dean rolled his eyes. "Dad, I'm ten years old. I'm not a baby anymore; I know you're just saying that to make me feel better."  
John sighed and looked Dean straight in the eye. "I know you're not a baby anymore, you've matured a lot this past year, which is why I'm not going to treat you like a baby and I'm gonna tell you the truth."  
Dean shrugged and walked out of the living room. John didn't try to stop him, he just watched him go. He knew he was being sincere with Dean, so it didn't matter whether he believed him or not. He was still only a kid after all.

Dean joined Sam – his six year old brother - who was upstairs packing what little possessions they had. Moving around so much meant they couldn't afford to get attached to material things.   
"Hey, Sammy." Dean said cheerfully as he looked at his brother who was next to a teddy bear that was almost the same size as him.  
Sam was sat on the floor of his and Dean's looking through some old photographs.  
"Hi." Sam said quietly. He didn't look up at Dean, he was engrossed by a particular picture he held in his hands.   
"What's the picture of?" Dean asked. He'd never seen his little brother stare at something so intently.   
"Mommy." Sam answered, still not removing his gaze from the picture.  
Dean sat down next to Sam, avoiding the odd piece of lego (that was the only toy they really played with apart from a few cars that John had collected).  
Dean looked at the small black and white photograph of their mother that Sam was holding. It had been folded many times and was torn slightly at the corners, but Dean could see why Sam looked at it so fondly. 

In the photo, their mother - Mary Winchester – was stood outside what Dean assumed was the first house that her and their Dad had bought together; in Lawrence, Kansas. His and Sam’s first home. Of course that house was no longer there, it had burnt down in a fire when Dean was four and Sam was just a baby. But Dean tried to not dwell on the circumstances in which his mother was killed, and he looked at the picture again.   
Mary was stood outside of the house in what appeared to be springtime. She was laughing, and the wind had blown some of her hair onto her face. She really was beautiful, Dean thought to himself. Mary was pregnant with him in the picture. She had long, curly blonde hair that fell just below her shoulders, and her bright green eyes reminded Dean of his own.   
He could imagine the moment just as the picture was taken. His dad saying “Come on honey, smile!” behind the camera. His mom being all embarrassed but then giving in, and just as he took the picture, a gust of wind blew all of her hair out of place and she started laughing. He could hear her laugh so clearly as he looked at the picture. It was an almost angelic sound. She reminded Dean of an angel now he thought about it, and he remembered what she used to say when she put him to bed, “Angels are watching over you.”  
Dean hoped Mary was up there, in heaven, watching over him. 

“Do you miss her?” Sam said, his voice full of sadness.   
Dean was snapped out of his daydream. “Uhh, no, not really” He lied “I was only four when she died, Sammy. I don’t really remember her that much.” He lied again. Dean remembered almost everything he ever heard his mom say, or see her do. He remembered when he got the flu, and she made him tomato rice soup because that’s what her mother (Dean’s grandmother, Deanna, who he was named after) had made her whenever she got sick. He remembered how she used to sing Hey Jude to him and Sam instead of a lullaby because that was her favourite Beatles song; and he remembered the sound of her voice, the little freckles around her nose that he used to poke when he was a toddler, and the way she would laugh when he did so. Dean missed his mom so much. 

“I wish I knew her.” Sam said quietly as he stood up and went to pack his clothes.   
“Me too, Sammy. Me too.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

They left for the new house the next morning.  
“Boys!” John called from outside. “Come on, we gotta go!”  
Sam and Dean grabbed the last few bags out of their bedroom and joined their dad, who was stood next to his 1967 Chevrolet Impala – which Dean adored.   
The boys threw their bags in the trunk of the car and climbed in the back seat.  
John got in the front, started the engine, and off they were.  
“Bye house!” Sam said as he waved out of the back window.   
Their new house was quite a while away and the journey would take several hours, so Dean decided to sleep. Although the sound of the trailer hooked to the car with their stuff in clanging, and his dads classic rock tapes blaring made that difficult.  
After half an hour or so of trying, however, Dean did manage to eventually fall asleep.

He was woken approximately four hours later by Sam poking his face.  
“We’re here, we’re here!” said Sam excitedly. Dean rubbed his eyes and sat up straight to look out of the window at their new home.  
It reminded Dean a lot of their house in Lawrence, the one in the folded up photo of their mother.   
“Come on, let’s go inside!” Sam shouted as he ran to the trunk of the car, grabbing as many bags as he could.   
“I’ll race you for the best room!” he called as he ran up the pathway and into the house.  
Dean was still pretty tired, he couldn’t be bothered racing Sam, he didn’t mind if he got a small room.   
He sluggishly grabbed some bags and went into the house, which was completely empty smelt of fresh paint everywhere. The smell made Dean feel ill.   
He walked up the stairs and saw Sam unpacking in what he had claimed as his room. Dean really didn’t mind which room he got as long as he had a bed, so he just went for the closest door that wasn’t the bathroom.   
The room wasn’t as small as Dean thought it would be. He had a bed, a small nightstand, a dresser and a closet.   
There was also a huge window on the wall opposite the door, which had a seat underneath it which Dean thought was pretty cool. He put his bags down and went over to open the window; it was mid afternoon and pretty warm out.   
As he went over to the window he noticed that there was a small bit of roof just beneath it where part of the ground floor stuck out. The house next door had a similar bit of roof sticking out, and both houses met in the middle.*   
If he wanted to, Dean could just climb out of his window and wander right in to his next door neighbours’ house. He chuckled at the thought. 

He could hear his dad talking outside, so he stuck his head out of the window and looked over to his right where he could see him talking to a woman, who Dean assumed lived in the house with the stuck out bit of roof.  
He managed to catch a bit of their conversation.   
“How old are your boys?”   
“Ten and six.”  
“Aw, really? My son’s ten.”  
“No kidding?”  
“Yeah, he didn’t wanna come say hello, though. He’s pretty shy.”  
“Well I’m sure I’ll meet him sooner or later.”  
“I doubt it.” The woman said. “He never leaves his room.”   
As she said that, she pointed to the room that faced Dean’s. 

Dean turned back and jumped. There was a young boy his age, sat on the edge of the window, his feet touching the roof that stuck out.  
“I didn’t mean to startle you. My apologies” The boy said.   
Dean was more surprised at how well spoken the boy was for a ten year old.   
“No, it’s fine. Hey, that your mom?”  
“Yes.” The boy answered.   
Dean looked at the peculiar boy. He was much paler than Dean, and his hair was a darker brown – so dark it was almost black.   
He stared at Dean with piercing blue eyes, his face full of curiosity.

“You’ve just moved in.” The blue eyed boy said. It was more of a rhetorical statement than a question, but Dean answered anyway.  
“Yeah. I’m Dean, by the way.” He leant out of the window slightly and held out his hand.   
The blue eyed boy stood and stepped forward, shaking it.  
“Pleased to meet you, Dean. I’m Castiel.”

**Author's Note:**

> *I saw this picture on tumblr and I guess it inspired the way Dean and Cas' bedrooms join http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lyu1291BXH1qlywlko1_500.jpg


End file.
